An Apple A Day
by Quantum Ferg
Summary: Dr. Harleen Quinzel's new patient at Arkham Assylum...a bizarre mind just waiting to be cracked open. Some call him a psychopath, she calls him Mr. J. This is a day by day chronicle of how Harleen Quinzel is transformed into Harley Quinn. T for now.
1. Prologue

**An Apple A Day**

**Prologue  
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She had been diagnosing at Arkham for three years, and never had she seen anyone as "complicated" as the man that sat in front of her. She was a genius, graduated high school at the age of 16 and was elected valedictorian; then published her book, while attending the best college in Metropolis. After attending medical school, she started at Arkham and has been there since. Blond hair, blue eyes, age twenty nine, she was the beautiful, brilliant, Quinzel.

No other doctor would take him. He had been mass murdering for just over a year, got nabbed by the feds, broke out of prison, went on a week long murder spree, got nabbed by the vigilante known as Batman, got sent to Arkham. It was a story imprinted into Gotham City's legacy. So she volunteered, today would be their first session. The guard opened the metal door, and then the metal gate, let Dr. Quinzel inside, shut the gate (leaving the door open), and stood respectfully outside. This was going to be interesting.

She opened the folding chair she had brought in, and sat down. She folded one leg over the other, placing a clip board on her lap.

"Well, well, well," He said with a smirk that never really went away, "the… doctor is in."


	2. Day 1

**Day 1**

They stared at each other for a few good minutes, when Dr. Quinzel broke the silence.

"So," She said, tapping her pen on the clip board.

"So," He said, swinging his legs back and forward over the edge of his cot, like a four year old.

"Tell me about your childhood." He was a mystery to the world. She was hoping this would get the ball rolling even if his response didn't relate.

"Well, what can I say doc. It's the standard spoiled little circus freak tale." He smirked and laughed chaotically.

"Really?" She said, vigorously moving her pen, as if to look like speed writing.

"No, you moron! Let me see that board! I can't believe how ignorant you are!"

She flipped the writing surface over, showing a notepad with "GOTCHA" written across the top page. The inmate was taken back by this.

"You know doc? I think we're gonna get along just fine."

"Now, seriously. Tell me about your family."

"First, a personal rule of thumb, I'm never serious. And second, Nothing to tell." He said, licking his lips.

"You just dropped onto the earth."

"Try the more recent past. I got loads of stories about that." He looked strangely pleased.

"Alright," She said, thinking what he would answer. "Tell me about those scars." She motions her pen to the sides of her lips.

"You want to know how I got these scars?" He got up from his cot in excitement. "Ah, well, my old college days I wasn't the easy breezy guy who sits in front of you. I mean I was a real stiff. Not popular, or fun. A book worm, that was me. Only had one friend, lets call him Joe. Joe was a great guy, a million laughs, you would of loved him! Any who," he said plopping on the floor, criss cross apple sauce.

"Joe was a darer. He and a group of his buddies, The Wild Cards they called themselves, dared this and that and all sorts of things. Joe's friends didn't like me, and Joe sometimes sided with his friends and picked on me. They looked at my frown and said, "Don't be so glum, chum!" then they'd laugh and I'd laughed too because, well, you know, their not laughing at you their laughing with you. So, one day Joe says "Hey, we all know dean Kingsley is a fool, right? Well, I dare ya to graffiti the school statue of dean Kingsley like a clown!" Joe laughed and I said, "What do I get if I do?". He says "You become a Wild Card.", "And If I don't?", "Your pitiful social life is doomed."

"So, of course I did it. But right after I did it the cops show up, telling me they got an anonymous tip from a number on campus. I couldn't let my record get tarnished so I told them I knew who it was and told them that I was the fall guy. That I was left there to take their punishment. Let me tell you that they take those things very seriously. So, I got a fine, though no marks on my papers. And they spent a night in jail till their parents could come pay bail. So when I go home after class the next morning, I find the Wild Cards sitting in my dorm.

"They tell me that I was out, and that I had shamed the Wild Cards for life. And as punishment I would forever look like the prank I had failed to accomplish. Joe took the knife off of the counter, while the others pinned me to the wall. "We was gonna call you the Joker, ya know. You was gonna be the brains of our operations. Too bad."

Then he took the knife to my lips and," He makes the noise of a knife cutting flesh, and then again. He sees Dr. Quinzel's chin quivering and says, "Don't be so glum, chum."


	3. Day 2

**Day 2**

Dr. Quinzel had left the last (and first) session confused and emotionally unsound. Today she would be ready to set the record straight.

"Morning Dr..." The guard said letting her into the cell.

"Quinzel. Harleen Quinzel." She said, once again entering with her folding chair. She opens the chair while greeting her patient. "Good morning, Joker."

"Howdy Doody, Dr. Cutie!" He said bowing.

"Excuse me?" She asked sitting down.

"Oh, did I go too far?" He chuckled, while, not quite eying her, though more over admiring her.

"Ahem." She coughed, crossing her legs.

"Ayeayeayeaye," He grumbled, closing his eyes and shaking his head like a cartoon character. "Uh, sorry. After so long in here, well, Jeff out there was looking pretty nice." He nodded towards the door. "It's these walls, they make ya see things."

"Hey, I heard that!" Jeff shouted from the hall.

"I hope so. I'm a big fan of Italian food, so no Mexican for our first date!" He giggled and smiled vaguely at Dr. Q.

"So, Joker. G.C.P.D. And Arkham records show that the story you told me yesterday was complete bull." She raised an eyebrow, and he raised his right back. "In fact, we have record of seven other scar stories."

"Which one was your favorite?" He asked inquisitively.

"Is everything a joke with you?" She shouted throwing her hands in the air.

"No!" He was offended like a nine year old. Then he kinda put his eyes in a position like he was taking a second thought. "Well, maybe?" She eye browed him again. "Yes! There, ya happy, Doc!"

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to get some manners! Ya pampas jerk!" She chucked the clipboard at his feet, he dodged and it bounced off the floor and hit the wall. She picks it up and pounds on the gate. She exits as the Joker stands in awe. He had never reacted to something so insignificant in such a big way.

"Nice job, nut ball!" Jeff said locking the door.

"Love you too, hon. I'll see you at seven for dinner!" She was different, he thought, definitely different.


End file.
